Now that my dad’s back from the hospital and is on a strict healthy-living plan, my family owns a new set of bathroom scales. (They’re the fancy kind with a digital readout, so try not to be jealous.) Y’all, if there’s anything positive about being chronically sick and having little to no appetite, it’s weight loss. This afternoon I used the new scales and found out that I’m lighter than I’ve been in four years. I’m thrilled, of course, but this news came as a complete shock. I mean, in terms of diet, I haven’t even been trying lately. I’ve been eating toast with butter and high-fructose-corn-syrup jelly for breakfast for weeks now. All those years of trying-trying-trying, and now that I’ve practically given up caring, the pounds are just sliding off. Go figure. Apparently all it takes is two rounds of influenza.

Uh–count your blessings?

Physically, I’m still worn out, but it could be a lot worse. Today I rallied long enough to do some paperwork, and I’m thinking I may get out of the house before the weekend is over. Also, I took a shower. Y’all, I hate that I consider this bragging–a little paperwork and a hot bath–but I do. God, there’s nothing like the flu on top of a chronic sinus infection to seriously lower your standards and dramatically shift what ranks as an accomplishment in your life. Hey, everyone, you better sit down for this–I bathed.

Emotionally, I have less to offer than I do physically. Yesterday I got some bloodwork back from my doctor, and today I got a message from her about it. She said my CBC results were normal and that my immunology results (which came back as “in range”) would need to be discussed with my immunologist. I’m assuming she said this because he’s the one who ordered the tests and he’s also the specialist–for a reason. At the same time, I hate having to wait an entire month in order to get any explanation at all. Lately my health feels like one of those rush-hour traffic jams caused by heavy construction or a five-car pile-up–like I’m going nowhere fast. It’s so frustrating.

If you’ve never felt this way, it’s exhausting. I don’t recommend it.

I guess I’ve been exhausted for a while now. Some days are worse than others, but I’m honestly worn out by life. It feels like the universe has wadded me up and is running me back and forth across a washboard. I’ve talked to my therapist a lot about this, and recently she said, “Marcus, what are the two things I always tell you? First, don’t let anyone scare you straight. Second, whenever we are the most worn out, the most tested, that’s when something good comes along.” Then she added, “I can’t say this about everyone, but I never worry about you. I’ve never worried about you. I know something good is coming.”

Of course, I hope she’s right. The logical part of me realizes this storm can’t last forever. Still, there are days when it takes all the strength I have and then some to stay above water. On difficult days, I can’t tell you what a difference it makes to know there’s someone in your corner who isn’t judging you, someone who is believing in you and rooting you on. Whether it’s a therapist, a friend, or a family member, I think we all need that–a lighthouse–someone who stands strong in the midst of a storm, someone who helps us find our own way home.